


Fire Walkers

by chasingyourghost



Category: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingyourghost/pseuds/chasingyourghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1002188"> You just turned so white</a>.  Pwp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robert

The hotel room's compact fluorescent lights are a mismatched, lurid, drug-hazed glow in the periphery of my vision.  I'm leaned over the desk in front of the large oval mirror, fucking Leah from behind.

Funny how we always end up here.

I don't really want to get into the specifics of that.  I'm high as fuck and don't want to think about anything but how gorgeous she is, staring my reflection down in the mirror, fogging it with her panted breath.  Her sweaty hair sticks to her cheek.  Mine sticks out everywhere, raked upwards by her greedy hands. 

Leah makes some of the best sounds I've ever heard, especially when I'm behind her like this.  A rich range from guttural moans to this high keening whine that I love.  She's strong, assertive and soft all at once.  She can come from intercourse, and it isn't uncommon for us to be simultaneous.  I attribute it to how close we are.  I've slept with friends before, of course, but I can't say I've ever slept with someone I was best friends with like this.  We've got that crazy drummer-bassist chemistry, and when you bring that into the bedroom, especially directly after a gig ... oh, man. 

That's my favorite thing about her, still.  Not how fucking delicious she tastes.  Not the way her thighs squeeze me half to death as she comes.  Not the pheromone-laden sweat in the hollow of her throat.  It's how unwavering and unquestioning and true her friendship is.  She gets me.  She has fun with me.  She pulled me out of the darkness when I tried to hide in it. 

She squirms and backs up firmly against me, reaching behind her to claw at my thighs.  I quit my daydreaming and bend over her, nipping at her spine and nuzzling into the back of her neck.  God, she smells good.  She's the best.  The fucking best. 

Whatever it is we're doing, it feels better than most things I can remember and I hope she won't want to stop. 

 


	2. Leah

We never really stopped after that first time. 

Everyone's slowly catching onto us.  Peter certainly has.  I get the feeling they've known each other about two decades too long to keep real secrets.  But, being the elusive Aquarius that he is, it's hard to tell whether he thinks it's a bad idea or is totally cool with it or what.  He just gives that smug smile at our increasing amount of alone time. 

And Rob ... Rob seems to care less and less who knows.  This particular trip, we've been gone for weeks.  Trying to write off the partying by visiting a couple of studios out here in the desert.  We've actually recorded snippets of some really promising songs.  The other night, cloudy with psilocybin, he called me pretty and giggled.  We slow danced alone in the dark.  And later he lay me down sweetly, like a girlfriend, or a lover.  Or something.  I don't need a label for this if he doesn't.  I just know we're closer and I like it. 

 _And_ I like the way he's moving inside me and above me right now.  His eyes and hair are wild and the way his arms are rippling where they brace against the edge of this shitty hotel desk, God, I couldn't look away if I tried.  This man is exactly what sex should look like.  And _feel_ like.  Obviously.

He angles hard and to the left, and I gasp and moan into the mirror, pressing my face against the warming glass.  He's so big.  It's hard not to tremble beneath him.  His face lights up and he does it again.  I smile wickedly at him.  I love being able to watch him like this. 

Robert fucks the same way he plays music: smoothly, ferociously, and with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.  The man knows what he's good at.  And when he looks good doing it.  The sight of him thrusting is slowly but surely unraveling me. 

When he doubles his pace and gets in close so that his moans muffle against my skin, an orgasm is already coiling through my pelvis and setting fire to my nerves. 

 

 


	3. Robert

I love her, in my own way.  She knows that. 

My dad really liked Leah, he would love it if he knew this was going on.  I think he fancied her himself, to tell the truth.  Although I wonder how that would have gone, if he were alive.  It _was_ his death that prompted her to comfort me and kiss me, and me to ... well, I did a lot of things to her that night.  And again in the early hours of the morning.  That bittersweet first time, that beginning in the midst of a sad ugly ending. 

She told me some of the lyrics of War Machine remind her of that day, and for the rest of the tour, every time we opened with that song it took all the willpower I had to fight down a growing erection that threatened to last the entire gig. I could feel her clenching around me between every verse, could smell her and taste her and feel her eyes on me. 

I could write songs about this.  I could sing praise in the hot desert streets.  I could ... fucking ...

I can't get close enough to her, deep enough into her.  I try anyway, as hard and fast as I can go in my current state, sweat tickling my skin, lips pressed to her left shoulder blade.  I screw my eyes shut and suck in her scent and hear my own labored breaths blending with hers. 

She always calls me Robert when she comes. 

She squeezes tight and wet around me, her throaty voice music to my ears.  That open-mouthed look of beautiful agony on her face is fucking perfect and exactly what I've been waiting to see.  I'm right behind her.  I'm always right there behind her. 

I pull out of her as the waves of satisfaction crash over me, and come in two long streaks across her ass and up the middle of her smooth golden back.  I remember the first time I saw her in a bathing suit, and then the first time I saw her topless from behind while getting changed, and my dick twitches even as it softens. 

I pull her up toward me, cup her face, and kiss her; as softly as I can with my chest still heaving and my lungs still burning. 

She slides her arms around my neck and smiles. 

 


End file.
